


Serendipity

by CarrKicksDoor



Series: Wars in Peacetime [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: New Republic Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: X-wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrKicksDoor/pseuds/CarrKicksDoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shada D'ukal fought her entire life.  But she may lose the one battle that really matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

> Two years after _The Hand of Thrawn_ duology

Shada studied the cards in her hand. She had eight in the interdiction field and twelve in her hand. Chin and H’sishi had already folded, the crease in Dankin’s forehead said he didn’t have anything of value other than the Idiot he’d thrown in the interdiction field, and Aves was smirking.  
  
He couldn’t have an Idiot’s Array—Dankin had denied him that possibility—which meant Aves had to get to twenty-three the old fashioned way. Twenty wasn’t a good hand, but it wasn’t bad. She tossed her credits into the pot. “I’ll call.”  
  
Aves kept smirking as he laid down his cards. “Nineteen.”  
  
Dankin scowled and tossed his cards into the middle. Shada raised an eyebrow before laying down her hand. “Twenty. Pot’s mine.”  
  
Chin crowed in triumph as Shada raked in the credits. “You forbid her from playing too, Aves? She has no Jedi powers, read your bluff, Aves. What you going to do?”  
  
Aves sat back in his chair. “Be a gracious loser, I suppose.” He laced his fingers behind his head. “But I never figured you for a card shark, Shada.”  
  
Shada stacked up her winnings, neatly folding up the rainbow of credits. “I spent nearly ten years with Mazzic’s organization,” she said. “I’ve had plenty of time to practice.”  
  
Aves did finally make a face at that. “And Mazzic’s a damn sarlaac at this game. He cleaned me out three months pay once.”  
  
“I know,” Shada said. “I was there.”  
  
Aves frowned, trying to recall the memory, and Dankin sighed. “So I guess that means I’m ferrying you and the boss to this art deal tomorrow night?”  
  
“I believe that was the deal you made,” Shada said, throwing him twenty creds out of her stack. “Here. You’ve got to learn to stay out of these games, Dankin. You’re terrible at sabaac. It’s too easy to take your money.”  
  
The feline chortle from H’sishi sounded half like a hiss and half like a laugh. [Shada is right, friend Dankin. You play this game very badly.]  
  
“And you all are just now telling me?” Dankin scowled.  
  
“You were an easy source of income,” Aves said, scooping the cards up to put them away as they cleaned up their table in the _Wild Karrde_ ’s mess. “But Shada’s let the gurrcat out of the bag, I suppose.”  
  
Shada left them, laughing, strolling down the corridors to Karrde’s office, knocking on the door before entering. Karrde looked up from the computer. “Dankin is driving us to the art auction tomorrow.”  
  
Karrde sat back in his chair. “He lost at sabaac again?”  
  
Shada couldn’t keep the grin from her face. “Again. And rather spectacularly, I have to say.”  
  
“Who won the evening?” Karrde asked, a twinkle in his eye as he gazed at her, standing in the doorway to his office. She held up the fistful of credits as an answer. “Going to buy a new dress for the auction?” he inquired.  
  
Shada barely held back an unladylike snort of laughter. “Actually, I thought I’d wear the red one you bought me,” she said. “This is going towards a new set of zenji needles.”  
  
“You can write those off as a business expense,” Karrde reminded her.   
  
She shrugged. “I broke a set last week—not in the line of duty. I can replace my own things. Someone pays me very well, you know.”  
  
Karrde’s generally sardonic smile turned into a full one. “Get out of my office,” he said, his tone assuaging any sting the words might have. “I’ve got work to do.”  
  
“No,” she said, leaving her pose against the doorframe and coming around his desk to give his chair a push. “You have a meeting tomorrow morning and even you require sleep, Karrde. Besides, you need your beauty sleep before we tangle with the Hutts tomorrow.”  
  
“Oh, yes,” Karrde said, reaching into his desk drawer for a datacard. “You asked for the dossier on Nilya. Here.”  
  
She deftly plucked the datacard from his hand. “I’ll peruse this while I’m pretending to pay attention to your meeting tomorrow. Now out. To bed with you.”  
  
“Mara never bossed me around this way,” he said, only the slightest hint of playful complaint in his voice.   
  
“Yes, well, I’m not Jade,” Shada said, propelling him towards the door. “You’d think you’d have noticed that by now.”  
  
***  
  
Gently fastening the dangling gems in her ears, Shada examined her appearance before the mirror in her quarters. The red dress hugged her curves in all the right place, the halter top snug against the back of her neck. The back of the dress plunged all the way to her waist, showing off the curves of her back. She’d pulled her hair up, fastening them with a set of her zenji needles, assuring that she would not go into any situation unarmed, and she slid a cuff bracelet over her arm.  
  
This dress was the first outfit Karrde had ever bought her, only a few days after she’d come to work for his organization, insisting that she needed suitable attire for the treaty celebrations they would be attending and that he would pay for it, since attending those parties fell under the designation of work. At the time, she had felt uncomfortable, both in his gaze falling upon her as she’d walked out in the dress for his approval and in walking into a room on his arm. She was a bodyguard, though, and she understood the need for such attire—she’d performed much the same function for Mazzic during the first meeting Karrde had called to propose the Smuggler’s Alliance.  
  
Now, these functions had developed into certain semi-regular occasions, she mused, picking up the necklace from the top of the desk. The soft knock on the door jolted her out of her reverie, and she looked up from the pendant—he’d bought this for her too. “Come in.”  
  
Karrde entered her quarters, looking every bit the rakish gentleman, thanks to his undone tie. “Ready?”  
  
“Almost,” she said, running a pleased eye over his appearance. Her employer was undeniably handsome, and she had to admit that the looks of envy other women shot her amused her to no end. “Do you mind?” She held out the necklace to him.  
  
“Not at all,” he said, taking the silver chain from her. He lifted it over her head, letting the pendant lay against the skin the dress exposed, and fastened it, his fingers brushing against the nape of her neck. “You look lovely, as ever, my dear Shada.”  
  
She turned to smile at his compliment. “Thank you,” she said, turning her attention to his tie. He raised his chin a bit, letting her finish. “There,” she said, surveying her handiwork and brushing a piece of invisible lint off his shoulder. “I’ll be getting jealous glances from every woman in the room.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow, letting her know that those looks amused him just as much as they did her. “Shall we?” he said, gallantly extending his arm to her.  
  
***  
  
Dankin opened the door to let them out in front of the Coruscant Museum of Art. Karrde exited the speeder, extending his hand to Shada. “Did you remember your holonovel?” Shada said.  
  
Dankin scowled. “It’s in the front seat. Did you have to get H’sishi to give me the best of Togorian literature?”  
  
Karrde led her towards the door, leaving Dankin to park the speeder and read. The art auction was a charity event to benefit the innumerable orphans that had been created by the long war between the New Republic and the Empire—representatives from both governments would be making an appearance here.  
  
While Karrde was generally in favor of feeding and clothing the orphans of the war, the charity auction would have gone by without his presence had Nilya the Hutt not suddenly experienced an upswing in fortunes. Now, the Hutt was reportedly planning to bid on one of the items at the auction—a Hutt reliquary. The item itself didn’t interest Karrde. The Hutt did, as Nilya’s territory was closely approaching Karrde’s, and it was expedient to remind rivals that Karrde was not only more powerful, but also better connected than they were.  
  
Hence, the auction, which in typically flamboyant Coruscant style, would feature entertainment, food, alcohol and dancing before the auction would actually begin. Karrde smoothly took two glasses of a sparkling wine, handing one to Shada. His gaze tracked over her shoulder, surveying one side of the room while she took in the other. To all appearances, they simply looked like a couple attempting not to be engrossed in one another. “What do you see?” Karrde asked.  
  
Shada’s penetrating gaze swept across the room. “Nilya has two—three—of his own people on that side of the room, the two Twi’leks and the human toting his snackquarium. Airen and Josta Cracken—he looks uncomfortable in his dress uniform. Gavin Darklighter and his wife chatting up someone in an Imperial uniform—they’re here because Darklighter is the spokesman for the adoption organization. Face and Brianna Loran in disguise; they’re across the room from an Imperial Intelligence agent. You?”  
  
“Unimportant New Republic and Imperial diplomats,” Karrde said. “The Bastion Moff, which is interesting. Turr Phennir, with all the 501st splendor. Gavrisom, surprisingly.”  
  
Shada turned her head towards the door. “Fey’lya. Walking in the door and heading straight over here.”  
  
Karrde smoothly took her hand, folding it into his arm. “Which makes this an excellent time to dance, my dear Shada.”   
  
“You really will do anything to avoid that Bothan,” she said, setting her glass on the bar as he led her towards the dance floor set up in the large atrium the museum had cleared for the gala.   
  
“Ah, but dancing with you is no difficulty,” he said, stepping on to the dance floor as one of the slower Ralltiiri tunes began to play. He clasped one of her hands in his, the other resting almost dangerously low on her back. They’d worked very hard to promote her image as one that seemed to be nothing more than a pretty piece of decoration. Most people in their circles knew better; it had still paid off on more than one occasion, which was enough for them to continue their relationship façade in public.  
  
The music flowed around them, and Shada allowed herself to relax a moment as Karrde expertly led her around the dance floor. His demeanor remained alert, but she could feel the muscles in his back release the tension as they moved around the floor, and not for the first time, she wondered what it would take for that tension to leave him permanently, wondered what it would be like for him to exist in the easy, laid-back attitude he so rarely indulged in now.  
  
She hated to ruin it as she rested her head against his, cheek against his. “One of Nilya’s Twi’leks is watching us. Very closely, I might add.”  
  
The tension was almost immediately back, and she gently rubbed her hand against his shoulder blade in an attempt to relieve it. “Something about this is bothering me,” he said quietly in return. “Nilya can be much more subtle than this.”  
  
“Maybe he is and we just don’t know it,” she said, pulling back to look at his face. His forehead showed the slightest crease.  
  
“Careful, Boss,” she said, a smile twitching the side of her mouth. “People will think we’ve had a tiff.”  
  
The music cut, and Karrde stepped back, giving her a respectful bow. Shada gently inclined her head in return. “If I speak to Fey’lya, that will give me a reason for scowling the rest of the evening,” he said, holding out his hand to her as he stepped off the dance floor.  
  
She raised an eyebrow, ready to tell him that if he intended to speak to Fey’lya, then she would go harass Loran, but a voice behind them halted her comment. “Talon Karrde?”  
  
They turned. A woman, brightly smiling, approached them. “Talon, it is you!”  
  
Shada watched the sudden surprise on Karrde’s face give way to another expression of genuine delight as she looked between him and the mystery woman, waiting for him to introduce her. “Denara Lane.”  

***  
  
Shada leaned back against the bar, artfully arranging her limbs in a pose that suggested disinterest as she sipped at a glass of sparkling wine. Anyone who looked at her would suppose that she was simply enjoying the atmosphere of the museum, taking a moment from the polite chatter to refresh herself.  
  
A very careful observer might have seen how her gaze swept across the room, falling on Nilya the Hutt, then back to the door to swiftly look over new arrivals before returning to a couple genteelly circling the dance floor.   
  
Karrde had given her a perfunctory introduction to Lane—introduced her as one of his former associates before he’d taken over Car’das’ organization. After a few moments of pleasantries, Lane had smiled and asked if she could steal Karrde away, saying that she remembered him being a wonderful dancer, and though Shada would have preferred that she remain close to Karrde, decorum required her to absent herself.  
  
Introspection was not a trait that the Mistryl necessarily encouraged in their members, but truthfulness of self was. Shada had, several months before, examined her feelings about Karrde after a particularly harrowing experience, and come to the inescapable conclusion that her feelings were not merely professional or platonic.   
  
She’d still kept those feelings to herself, not expecting Karrde to return them, and she’d thought that her inner conflict was over. But the discomfort she’d felt those several months ago while she was trying to work out her own feelings had appeared along with Denara Lane.   
  
Shada was under no illusions about Karrde, or about herself. Standing against the bar, she could critically examine Lane’s appearance and contrast it with her own. Lane had a fall of glossy blond hair, and filled out her asymmetrical blue dress in a manner designed to make other women wonder if she had synthetic help. Lane looked like a doll made to destroy the body image of billions of humanoid women across the galaxy.  
  
Shada had always considered herself attractive enough, in an unobtrusive way. Lane’s beauty was certainly obtrusive—Shada had heard a phrase “keeping all the goods in the shop window.”   
  
It applied here.  
  
A man sidled up beside her, ordering a glass of Whyren’s from the droid bartender. She glanced over at him, and made a note to compliment him on the mustache he’d so carefully applied to his upper lip later. “Shada D’ukal,” he said, taking a seat next to her. “Have you been abandoned for another woman?”  
  
Shada lifted an eyebrow. “Get behind me, devil,” she returned, taking another tiny sip from her glass.  
  
Face Loran picked up the glass of Whyren’s from the bartender. “Now, is that anyway to treat an old friend, lovely creature?”  
  
“Doesn’t your wife disapprove of you flirting with other women?” Shada said, bemused. Loran had been part of that particularly harrowing adventure a few months back, and she’d barely averted an unfitting end for the former actor.  
  
“Pah,” Loran said, dismissing Shada’s concerns with a wave of his hand. “I’m completely devoted to her and she knows it. Besides, she’s over there flirting with Turr Phennir, the nerf herder. Why shouldn’t I have a little fun?”  
  
Shada peered over his shoulder. Brianna was speaking to Phennir, but she doubted that there was any flirting going on, considering Brianna’s Chandrilan roots.   
  
Loran made a gesture with his chin towards the dance floor. “Who’s Karrde dancing with?”  
  
“Denara Lane,” Shada said absently, watching one of Nilya’s Twi’leks cross to speak to a minor New Republic functionary. “She used to work with Karrde back when Car’das was running things. Got out of the game a year or so before Karrde took over. Supposedly she’s the curator of a museum out in the Corporate Sector and walked in on the arm of one of the museum docents.”  
  
“Supposedly?” Loran said, his face just barely showing disapproval.   
  
“I don’t trust anyone,” Shada said in a tone that would keep from being overheard. “You ought to know that by now.”  
  
“Karrde seems to trust her,” Loran said. “Thought you trusted him.”  
  
“I didn’t say I trusted his judgment. Men will do rather stupid things when they’re besotted by a woman,” she said.  
  
“Stars, Shada, you’d think you’d have forgiven me for that by now.” Loran’s voice had suddenly turned crabby. “I did marry her, after all. It wasn’t for nothing.”  
  
“I have forgiven you,” she said. “That doesn’t mean I forgot.” The music had ceased once again, and Karrde was now—being introduced to someone? It looked like Lane was introducing him to the museum docent. Karrde’s expression was open, the usual sardonic twist of his features gone. “Think I could call in the favor you owe me?” she asked, taking a last sip of the wine.  
  
“Depends on what you need,” Loran said.  
  
“Pull everything you can on Denara Lane,” she said. “Quietly, and send it directly to me.”  
  
“You think something’s up?” Loran asked, catching his wife’s eye. She tilted her head at him, gesturing for him to join her. He turned to set down his glass.  
  
“Call it being safe,” Shada said. “If I’m wrong, no one needs to know I was being overprotective.”  
  
“I’ll see what I can do. May take a few days. Excuse me.” He gave her a nod before striding off towards Brianna’s position.  
  
***  
  
The auction had a wide variety of items that had been donated for the proceedings, and Shada tuned Gavin Darklighter’s speech out, her eyes resting on Denara Lane and her museum docent a few rows in front of them. The Hutt was in the back of the room, and Shada couldn’t help but feel antsy with her back to a possible enemy.  
  
Karrde made a few bids on the first few items, but he had his eye on a set of Naboo hair combs that had belonged to Queen Jamilla, directly before the beginning of the Clone Wars, with the intention that they should be for Shada. After finding out that Denara’s museum had been the donator, he’d made up his mind to have them.  
  
The only other item of interest was the Hutt reliquary, he thought, as Fey’lya aggressively bid on a piece of Bothan art and lost with bad grace to Ephin Sarreti, the Bastion Moff, but Nilya had come for it, and bidding on it would only serve to raise the price—good for the orphans, perhaps, but still merely pocket change for the Hutt. It had come from a Bespin museum—at Lando Calrissian’s behest to keep from fielding continual inquiries. The museum docent had expressed interest, but had sadly revealed that the museum could not afford what the piece was likely to cost. Instead, he bid on a small painting by a relatively unknown Coruscanti artist, and Denara had gripped his arm excitedly when he won it. She had always enjoyed art, he remembered, having been dragged to more than one museum during the old days—she’d even confided that she’d managed to procure a piece from Grand Admiral Thrawn’s personal collection for her museum.   
  
He told himself that it was the concentration on Nilya that cost him the hair combs, and resolved to make sure that he beat Shada to getting the new zenji needles as compensation. 

***  
  
Shada scowled as she read over Loran’s message—nothing more on Denara Lane than what she already knew. She tapped her fingers against the computer console in her small office on the _Wild Karrde_ and considered her options. Irritated that this was going to bother her friend, she entered the comm number and waited.  
  
Normally, the Yavin IV comm center was manned by one of the Jedi students at the academy, but Luke Skywalker himself answered the call. “Shada!” the Master Jedi said, his face spreading into an expression of delight. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”  
  
Shada hadn’t been able to spend much time around the Master Jedi, but he had always left her with a favorable impression. “I was hoping I could speak to Mara,” she said. “It’s not terribly important, but I need to ask her a question.”  
  
Skywalker’s face went blank for a moment, and Shada felt a shiver down her spine, wondering what it would be like to be in such intimate, constant contact with the one she loved. “She’ll be here in a moment,” he said, his attention returning to Shada. They exchanged further pleasantries—she asked about the Academy, he asked about Karrde, and she ignored the furrow across the Master Jedi’s forehead that formed at her answer that Karrde was just fine. Mara’s appearance saved her from any further commentary on Karrde’s well-being. The red-headed Jedi smiled down at her husband before taking his seat, and Skywalker gave Shada a good-bye wave before disappearing off screen.  
  
“Hello, Shada,” Mara said. “I hope you’re keeping Karrde out of trouble.”  
  
“I’m trying,” Shada said, gritting her teeth. “That’s why I called, actually. Have you ever heard him talk about a Denara Lane, from his days with Car’das?”  
  
Mara was silent for a few moments, searching her memory before she shook her head. “No, not that I can ever remember. Karrde never talked much about those days anyway—I don’t know that there’s anyone near Karrde who does. Chin might and so might Moranda Savich, but I don’t. Why do you ask?”  
  
“Because she showed up last night at an art auction,” Shada said, “and this morning showed up at the ship. He’d extended an invitation to her to come aboard.”  
  
Mara’s eyebrows lowered. “He what?”  
  
Shada nodded. “I know. I’m—less than pleased.”  
  
Mara’s expression softened a bit. “You sure that there’s anything wrong? Or is it just you?”  
  
Shada bit off an ugly remark before it could escape her lips. “Damn it, Mara. This has nothing to do with—nothing to do with my personal feelings. It has everything to do with there something being very wrong about this. Call it—intuition, call it the Force, whatever. But something is wrong with this woman and something is wrong with this whole situation.”   
  
Mara nodded, and Shada sat back in her chair. There were very few people who knew about her feelings for Karrde—Mara Jade Skywalker, Mirax Horn, Iella Antilles, people she’d come to think of as good friends. Others might suspect, but Shada had only shared and confided in those she thought of as sisters. The women had more than taken the place of her Mistryl sisters, and they did so without judging and with an enormous amount of trust. “Look, Shada,” Mara said. “You’re his second-in-command and bodyguard. And I’ll be the first to tell you that Karrde has made some stupid decisions before. But he can also take care of himself.”  
  
“The point of me being here is that he doesn’t have to,” Shada said, sighing. “How did I get myself mixed up in this?”  
  
Mara smiled. “You got mixed up in this when you decided to do the right thing a few years ago.”  
  
“And no good deed goes unpunished,” Shada said, tapping her fingers against the desktop.   
  
“Remember what we talked about? You and I and Mirax and Iella?” Mara said quietly. “You can’t get what you want if you keep hiding it, Shada. Take it from someone who knows.”  
  
“Yeah,” Shada said. “Anyway. Thanks for your help, Mara.”  
  
“It wasn’t much help,” Mara said. “But you can call anytime, Shada, even if you just want to talk.”  
  
Shada nodded. “I will. Thanks again.” She shut the comm off, back to considering her options once again. Chin hadn’t seemed to recognize Denara when she came onboard, and Moranda was undercover—she wasn’t going to jeopardize that.   
  
She quickly composed a message, encrypted it with the private code Ghent had devised for Karrde, and sent it, hoping that Booster Terrik would get the message quickly. He’d claimed that he’d flipped bits Karrde had no idea existed. Now she would find out if it was true or if the old pirate was lying.  
  
She rose from her seat, grabbing a datacard, intending to drop it off in Karrde’s office. She nodded to Torve as she walked down the corridor. Shada was accustomed to walking into Karrde’s office without knocking. She wished that she hadn’t been when she walked in.  
  
The image would remained burned in her memory, Karrde’s handsome head bent over Denara Lane, his hands digging into her hair, eyes closed as he kissed the woman. They broke apart as Shada entered. “I’m sorry,” she said, carefully controlling her voice to keep from stammering, though her flushed face gave her embarrassment away. “I just wanted to bring you this. I’ll knock next time.” She held out the datacard. Karrde took it from her, setting it on the desk. She couldn’t help but look at his mouth, his lips swollen from what had apparently been an enthusiastic kiss.   
  
“It’s quite all right, Shada,” Karrde said. “Denara, you met Shada last night, but her official capacity is as my second-in-command.” Denara nodded, smiling somewhat sheepishly at Shada. “Ah, Shada, Denara and I are going out to dinner this evening.”  
  
Shada checked her chrono. “What time and where?”  
  
Karrde held up a hand. “You can stay here.”  
  
This was not going to do. Shada put her hands on her hips. “I can’t act as your bodyguard if I’m not at least around, Karrde.”  
  
“You’re my second-in-command,” Karrde said smoothly. “And this is Coruscant. I think we’ll be just fine without supervision.”  
  
“Oh, because you can’t get killed on Coruscant,” Shada spat back. “It wasn’t on Coruscant the last time someone tried to take a potshot at you, or on Coruscant when we had to go trying to find Dankin and Torve because someone decided that they’d be good hostages. Not at all.”  
  
“Despite that,” Karrde said, his expression hardening. “You can stay here. I promise that I will not go anywhere unarmed.”  
  
“Fine,” Shada bit out. “You do that. I’ll just make sure to avenge you when you get yourself shot.” She turned around, exiting the office before Karrde could say anything. How dare he? It was as if the man had no idea of the importance of his own life, especially now that he was acting as a go-between for New Republic and Imperial Intelligence.   
  
Fine. If he was going to get himself killed, it wasn’t going to be on her watch. She was taking the night off.  
  
***  
  
Shada found herself on the hoversofa in the crew lounge, almost dazedly watching the horrible holodrama Aves had found. It purported to be some sort of romantic comedy—he claimed Dankin had bought it—and on her third elba beer, Shada was beginning to hate the whole thing. “Unrequited love’s a bitch,” she muttered.  
  
“Tell me about it,” Aves said, his own face schooled in an expression of general unhappiness. He was on his fourth beer, and the two of them were just tipsy enough to be melancholy.  
  
Shada turned her head to look at him. “You? The self-proclaimed sex machine of the _Wild Karrde_?”  
  
Aves snorted. “Please. If I actually had a tenth of the sex that I claim I do, I’d be very happy.”  
  
Shada tuned out the holo, turning her whole body to face him. “Who is she?”  
  
“Huh?” Aves said, as if he wasn’t listening, but she could see him trying not to answer.  
  
“Your one great love,” Shada said. “Who is she?”  
  
He sighed. “Doesn’t matter. She’s married now. And I never had a chance anyway. She had her own unrequited love, but she’s got her own happily ever after now.”  
  
The image of Luke Skywalker’s face as he looked down at his wife reappeared in Shada’s mind. “You had the hots for Jade?”  
  
Aves shifted uncomfortably. “Still do, I guess. It didn’t matter if I did or not. You were at the wedding. You saw how in love she was with Skywalker.” He caught Shada’s eye. “Anyone who laid eyes on them knew that they were meant for each other. And besides, Mara deserves better than this.” He tapped his foot against the floor. “We chose this life, Shada. She didn’t. Not really. There was always something greater in store for her than this. We do good things. She was meant for great things.”  
  
“I guess so,” Shada said quietly, her mind turning back to Denara Lane. She’d deliberately gotten out of the game—would she come back for Karrde?  
  
“What about you?” Aves said.   
  
“Like you said. It doesn’t matter,” Shada said, trying to pick back up on the plot of the drama.   
  
“If it helps any, the crew’s rooting for you,” he said.   
  
Shada’s head snapped back around. “What do you mean?”  
  
He snickered. “I mean that if the crew had a choice, we’d hit Karrde over the head with a piece of duracrete until he sees that he’s got a good thing in front of him in you.”  
  
The denial ran across her brain, but for once, drink stilled her tongue rather than loosing it. “Thanks,” she said quietly.  
  
The corner of his mouth turned upwards. “Anytime, Shada,” he said, tipping the bottle back to his lips. “Anytime.”

***  
  
Shada opened her eyes, looking up at the ceiling, before turning her head to look at the chrono. Her alarm would go off before too much longer, and she had only a few more minutes to enjoy the comfort of her bed.  
  
The shifting of the heavy arm draped across her waist caused her head to turn in the other direction. He was tall and solid, and his blue eyes had darkened when they’d laid down the night before. If it hadn’t been for the head of sandy hair, she could have maintained the illusion until this morning.  
  
It didn’t matter, she thought, turning her face away from the man lying on his stomach next to her. The illusion had been enough when he’d pressed her down into the mattress, both of them with their eyes closed, seeing someone else in their mind’s eye and both knowing that this was nothing more than a brief respite from an encumbering solitude.  
  
The alarm began beeping softly, and Shada reached out a hand to turn it off. The arm around her unwound itself and Aves pulled the pillow over his head with a groan.  
  
Shada stifled her laugh. “Get up,”  
  
“Five more minutes,” he mumbled from under the pillow.  
  
“No wonder you’re always late for work,” she chided, her tone too light and cheerful for her words to have any sting.  
  
“Yes, boss,” he muttered, and she laughed, picking up her own pillow and walloping him with it. He gave a noise of protest and his tousled head emerged from the pillow. “All right, all right, I’m up.” He squinted at the chrono. “Sithspawn, Shada. Who gets up this early?”  
  
“I do,” she said, as he propped himself up on an elbow to look down at her. “I get in a good workout before I start on the paperwork.”  
  
Any other man would have leered at an innuendo in her words, but Aves sat up and stretched, and Shada wondered, not for the first time, why she’d fallen for Karrde instead of Aves, with his rough exterior that covered his kind heart, his considerate thoughts, his unselfishness. But as Aves rose, reaching for his discarded clothing, she knew once again that despite all of the good qualities in the man, he would never be more than a friend, and that was fine.  
  
He deserved better, though, and she couldn’t help but think that Faughn had her own unrequited love and that the captain of the _Starry Ice_ would take care of him if he could move past his aching heart.  
  
Aves crossed the bedroom, grabbing his shirt before coming back to the bed. He leaned over, placing a chaste but friendly kiss to her lips. “Thanks, Shada.”  
  
The corners of her eyes crinkled in laughter. “Anytime, Aves. Now get out of my quarters so I can take a shower.”  
  
She heard him laugh as he went out the door.  
  
***  
  
Karrde couldn’t claim to be up early as he walked down the corridors of the _Wild Karrde_ , since he hadn’t yet been to bed. The night had been more enjoyable than he’d anticipated, and the dinner had extended into dancing and dessert and drinks and conversation and finally breakfast in a little diner before he returned her to her hotel.   
  
He checked his chrono as he walked down the hallway. Shada should be up, he thought, moving towards her quarters. She would want to oversee the loading of cargo onto the ship—  
  
Down the hallway, the door to Shada’s quarters opened, and Aves stepped out, tucking his shirt back into his pants. He looked up, seeing Karrde. “Morning, Boss.”  
  
“Aves,” Karrde said, his voice carefully controlled to keep his surprise from being too evident. He looked from the man, who was finishing tucking his shirt in, to Shada’s door. “You and Shada?” He left the rest of the sentence unfinished, hoping that Aves would fill him in, but Aves merely shook his head.   
  
“None of your business, Boss,” he said, passing by Karrde. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”  
  
“Aves—“ Karrde bit out, but the blond man gave him a hard look that Karrde wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. It hinted at emotions that were too deeply buried to come out and talk without the application of a bottle of Whyren’s.   
  
“None of your business, Boss,” Aves said slowly, meeting Karrde’s gaze, before turning around and continuing down the hall towards his own quarters.  
  
The vision of Aves and Shada, curled around one another, involuntarily appeared in Karrde’s head, and he shook it to dispel the image. He chalked up the knot in his stomach to disapproval—less of their relationship, and more about the fact that he hadn’t known. He trusted both Shada and Aves implicitly; he thought they returned that trust.  
  
Shaking his head again, he pressed the announcer on Shada’s door. He only had to wait a few seconds before the door opened to give him admission, and she was already speaking. “What did you forget—oh!” she said, realizing that Aves was not standing at the door. “Good morning, Boss. Come in.”  
  
Karrde acknowledged her invitation, stepping into her quarters. The robe wrapped around her form floated at her feet as she leaned over to pick up two empty glasses and an open bottle of Alterac bourbon. “We’ll be leaving for Ando this afternoon. I’ve got cargo coming onboard this morning before we leave.”  
  
“I’ll take care of it,” Shada said, putting the glasses in the small sink and putting up the bottle. “Anything special about the cargo?”  
  
“Not particularly,” Karrde said. “We’ll be making a stopover there.” He paused. “Denara’s going to be joining us. We’ll drop her off in the Corporate Sector.”  
  
Shada’s form stiffened. “Pardon?”  
  
“Denara will be joining us,” he repeated.  
  
“Look, Karrde,” Shada said, leaning back against the sink. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I really don’t want Lane on the ship.” To be honest, she didn’t want Lane anywhere near Karrde. “I don’t trust her. And I don’t think you should.”  
  
“I did manage to get through an evening on Coruscant unscathed,” he said mildly.   
  
“And thank the Force for small mercies,” Shada said. “I don’t want her on the ship, Karrde. That’s it.”  
  
Karrde felt his own hackles rising. “Well, it’s done and she’s coming,” he said with an air of finality.  
  
“Fine,” Shada said sourly. “But I don’t have to like it.”  
  
That much was true, Karrde thought. “So. You and Aves?”  
  
If possible, her posture stiffened even more. “None of your business, Karrde.”  
  
“I don’t mind, necessarily—“ he began.  
  
She turned around, holding her hand up to cut him off. “What did I just say? It’s none of your business, Karrde.”  
  
“Two of my most trusted associates in a relationship?” he said. “I think I have a right to be—concerned.” That wasn’t the word he wanted, knowing it as soon as it left his mouth.   
  
“You—“ her face twisted into an unlovely shape. “Out, Karrde.”  
  
“So you’re allowed to say things about my love life and I can’t interject my concerns into yours?” he bit off.  
  
“I don’t particularly care about your love life,” Shada said, her voice tight. “I care about your safety and about the safety of this crew and this ship and I don’t trust Lane. Whether or not you decide to kriff around with her isn’t any of my concern. Now for the last time, Karrde, get out. I’ve got work to do, and I can’t do it if you’re standing here holding me up.”  
  
His own conflicting emotions threatening to break, Karrde gave up and let himself out into the corridor. “Fine,” he muttered to himself. “None of my business.”

***  
  
Shada hefted one of the smaller crates, moving it into the _Wild Karrde_ ’s cargo bay. The Ando-bound cargo was one of the more lucrative legal cargoes they carried—bacta and other medical supplies that had gone through a clearinghouse on Coruscant before being sent out to worlds needing the substance. Shada had often wondered why the bacta came through Coruscant rather than shipping directly from Thyferra. Karrde had simply told her to never underestimate the insidiousness of the middle man.  
  
Chin maneuvered the repulsor-sled, setting the canisters of bacta in a corner. “Shada, that lady’s outside.” He reached down to get the straps to secure the bacta. “Can’t you scare her off?”  
  
Shada felt her back stiffen. “I wish,” she said grimly. “I’ll go meet her. Tell Karrde to get his rear out here and get her out of the way of the work.”  
  
Chin nodded, and Shada stepped out of the cargo hold. Denara Lane was surveying the ship appreciatively, a bag slung over her shoulder. Shada gritted her teeth. She wasn’t inclined to be friendly, but she had to at least be civil. “Miss Lane.”  
  
“Shada,” Denara said, a smile appearing on her face. Shada briefly thought that if the woman had been unlikable, things would have been easier, but Denara insisted on being nice. “Talon told you I was coming?”  
  
“Yes,” Shada said, moving around her towards another crate. She checked the number against the datapad in her hand. “Chin’s gone to get him.”  
  
Denara’s gaze followed Shada’s movements as the Mistryl lifted the crate. “You don’t like me, do you?”  
  
Shada narrowed her eyes, searching Denara’s face carefully. In the back of her mind, a klaxon began blaring, but Shada couldn’t put her finger on the reason. “No.”  
  
“Why?” Denara asked. “I never met you until the other night. And you’re a good friend of Talon’s.” Her voice was almost pleading, and Shada resisted the urge to turn around and slap the woman.   
  
“I don’t trust you,” Shada said flatly. “I’m Karrde’s bodyguard. And I don’t trust anyone who comes on board the ship that I don’t know.”  
  
“I thought you were his second-in-command,” Denara said.  
  
Shada finally turned around to face her, fixing her with a stare that could have struck another woman down. “That too. But I’m his bodyguard first.” She started towards the cargo bay again as she saw Karrde coming down the ramp. “Don’t forget it.”  
  
***  
  
Karrde folded his arms across his chest and frowned at Cookie’s back. Generally speaking, the _Wild Karrde_ ’s chef was more than willing to cook for him—or more often, point out where the stove was if he’d missed dinner before pulling a dish she’d saved out of the refrigeration unit and telling him to warm it up.  
  
But now, Cookie had not only told him that she was “not cooking for you and that hussy,” she had flat out told him to “get out of my kitchen.”  
  
Karrde was trying to figure out how he’d lost control of his ship when Dankin walked in, whistling. “We’ve gone to hyperspace, Boss,” he said. “Hey, Cookie, did you save me any dinner?”  
  
“Sure did,” the woman said, her formerly stormy voice turning to sunshine. “It’s in the oven. I kept it warm for you.”   
  
“Nice,” Dankin said. “Shada and Chin said they’d be here in a minute. Hey, is this—“  
  
“Shantei casserole,” Cookie said, favoring him with a smile. Cookie was probably as old as Moranda Savich. Most people didn’t know her name, and Cookie didn’t offer it, insisting on the nickname she’d been gifted with by her grandchildren. “Your favorite.”  
  
Karrde watched as Dankin pulled out—an entire casserole. “Dankin,” he said under his breath. “Please cut me a couple of pieces of that.”  
  
“Don’t you dare!” Cookie said, pointing at him with a spoon. “Dankin, if you do such a thing, you will never eat out of this kitchen again.” She narrowed her eyes and gestured with the spoon. “I will not feed that hussy you brought on board, Karrde, and if you want to eat, you’ll go begging somewhere else.”  
  
“Excuse me,” Karrde said, “but if I remember correctly, I’m the one who owns and runs this ship. Dankin, please.”  
  
Dankin shook his head. Karrde glared. “Sorry, Boss. I’m more afraid of Cookie than of you. Besides, I’m on her side.”  
  
Cookie grinned. “I’ve trained him well. Now, off with you. Go forage somewhere else.”  
  
“This is mutiny,” Karrde complained.   
  
“Well, you should have thought of that before now,” Cookie said, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m telling you right now, Talon Karrde, I do not approve of this young lady you’ve brought on board, and I will not cook for her.”  
  
“You’ve never met her!” Karrde said, exasperation flooding his voice. This was becoming far from funny.  
  
“I don’t have to,” Cookie said. “I see more than you think I do, Karrde. She’s bad news.”  
  
“Have you been talking to Shada?” he demanded. “That’s just what she said.”  
  
“I have not been talking to Shada,” Cookie said, glaring at him. “I don’t have to. Now, get out of my kitchen.”  
  
Dankin shrugged. “Mutineers,” Karrde muttered under his breath.  
  
“For Force’s sake, Cookie, feed him,” Shada said, moving past him. “Quit whining, Karrde. You’ll get food.”  
  
Cookie made a sound of disapproval, but began rummaging around in one of the cabinets. “You’re not getting anything special, though,” Karrde heard her grumble, and he sought help in the ceiling tiles. This was going to be a long trip.

***  
  
Shada set her breakfast tray down in the mess across from Aves. The _Wild Karrde_ was nearly to Ando, and she was trying to get breakfast down before dealing with Ando control. Her mood was less than stellar—Karrde needed to be on the bridge when they came out of hyperspace, but he’d left orders not to be disturbed except in case of emergency, and Shada was not about to disobey that.  
  
Aves’ mood didn’t seem pleasant either as he speared a piece of his eggs rather viciously. “Morning.”  
  
Shada took a sip of her juice. “Morning.” He barely looked up at her. “You okay?”  
  
He stabbed his fork down against the plate again. “I’m pissed.”  
  
She took a bite out of her toast. “Got a reason?”  
  
“I talked to Karrde last night,” Aves said, looking up at her. “Guess which ship’s hyperdrive he’s finally getting fixed.”  
  
Shada dropped the piece of toast back onto the tray, suddenly having lost her appetite. “That son of a Sith. He’s finally pulling the _Lastri’s Ort_ out of mothballs.”  
  
“I’m glad to be getting my ship back,” Aves said quietly, lowering his voice to keep the other breakfasting crew members from paying too much attention. “But I’m pissed at the timing, because we both know exactly why he’s doing it now. And he doesn’t have the right to do this. But he’s got to realize that he can’t have it both ways.”  
  
Gritting her teeth, Shada valiantly fought back an urge to find Karrde and throttle him. “He—“ the anger in her voice was barely controlled, and the small shudder indicated that the ship had dropped out of hyperspace. “ _Shassa._ I’ve got to be on the bridge. I’ll take care of Karrde later.”  
  
Aves nodded, taking her tray as she rose. She strode towards the bridge, greeting crew members as she went. H’sishi looked up as Shada entered, but returned her attention to her station. “Dankin?” Shada called. “How are we doing?”  
  
“Ando Control is on the line for you, and they’re tetchy this morning,” he said.   
  
Shada rolled her eyes, sitting down at the comm station. “Ando Control, this is the _Wild Karrde_ requesting permission to land.”  
  
“ _Wild Karrde_ , we have no flight plan filed for you. What is your destination and cargo?”  
  
“We’re setting down at Ando Planetary spaceport with medical supplies for Sector General Hospice,” Shada answered. “We’re out of Coruscant, and you should have received our flight plan.”  
  
“You’re cleared for landing. Sector General has been notified of your arrival.”  
  
“ _Thank you_ ,” Shada said. Insufferable landing control agents were the last thing she needed. She shut down the comm and sighed. “Dankin, take us down.”  
  
***  
  
Unloading the cargo was much the same as loading the cargo, only in reverse and with more help, as the Sector General personnel had arrived with their speeders to take the bacta to the hospital.   
  
Shada was tying up some loose ends with the Aqualish Sector General representative when her comlink beeped at her. “D’ukal.”  
  
“Shada,” Chin’s voice said, “Booster Terrik is on the comm and wants to talk to you right this minute. He says it’s important.”  
  
Shada didn’t have the Force, but the premonition hit her full on, squeezing her heart in the middle of her chest. Nodding to the hospital rep, she called Janors over to finish the loading, and walked carefully to the ship—once she was out of sight, she jogged to the bridge, sitting down at the comm station again and activating the privacy fields. “Booster.”  
  
“Damn it, Shada, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for three days,” Booster said. “You’ve got to get that Denara person away from Karrde, now.”  
  
The ice growing in her chest spread to the pit of her stomach. “What is it?”  
  
“Her little museum is completely owned by the Hutts,” Booster said, his expression grim. “Nilya the Hutt, to be specific. She’s bought and paid for by the worms.”  
  
Shada swore, cutting Booster off, and hitting the intercom. “Karrde. Karrde, pick up. Karrde!”  
  
There was no answer, and Shada rose from the comm station, hurrying out of the bridge, flipping on her comlink. “Karrde? I swear, Karrde, if you don’t pick up right now—“  
  
Her step quickened from a walk to a full out run to his quarters. His door was locked, and she quickly entered the code. It didn’t open, and she re-entered the code. It still didn’t open. She forced her hand to stay still as she entered the security override.  
  
The door still didn’t open, and she ripped the knife out of her boot, jammed it into the crack between the wall and the door panel, pulling the door panel out. She yanked a couple of cords, stripped the plasti from them and spliced them together.   
  
The door slid open halfway, and Shada slid into the room.   
  
Karrde was half-dressed, sprawled out on his bed, unconscious. She would later have no memory of crossing the room as she raced towards him, putting a hand on his neck to check his pulse. “Karrde! Wake up!” She felt a rush of relief as she realized he was still breathing and she smacked the intercom that had been so unresponsive earlier. “Aves.”  
  
“Here.”  
  
“Get the medical droid and bring it Karrde’s quarters. Hurry.”  
  
“I’m on my way.” The comlink cut off, and Shada turned back to Karrde. A quick survey of the room revealed no Denara Lane and none of her belongings. She slapped the intercom again, orders coming from her mouth at a blistering speed. “Chin, H’sishi, secure the landing bay and the ship. No one gets in or out. Dankin, get me whoever is in charge of New Republic Intelligence on this planet. I don’t care who you have to bribe. And if anyone sees Denara Lane, shoot first and ask questions later.”  
  
Something in her tone forestalled any argument, and affirmatives answered her comm call as Aves arrived with the 2-1B in tow. The droid bent over Karrde, checking vital signs and using a syringe to take blood from the smuggler’s arm.   
  
She’d left Karrde alive, and Shada looked around the room, wide-eyed. If Denara had been hired by the Hutts, then why had she left Karrde alive?   
  
The analytical part of Shada’s mind kicked in, the part that she depended upon to keep her alive, the part that the Mistryl had trained into her. If Karrde was alive, then he wasn’t the target. Denara had to be after something else—  
  
The chair was out at the computer terminal, and Shada crossed over, tapping keys. “Son of a—“  
  
Aves was suddenly looking over her shoulder. “What?”   
  
“She’s got our database—all of it.” She started to scroll through the database. “It’s been copied, every last byte.”  
  
The color drained out of Aves’ face. “But it’s coded—Ghent designed those codes himself—“  
  
“It won’t matter if she’s got the decrypt algorithm,” Shada said.   
  
“That’ll still take her hours, assuming it’s here,” Aves said.  
  
“Or she’ll leave now and take it to her masters,” Shada said. The movement and sound from the bed caused her to turn her head.   
  
Karrde was stirring, his hands to his head as he tried to lever himself up. “What happened?”  
  
“Your doxy knocked you out and ran off with our database,” Shada bit out. The information in Karrde’s databases could be used to blackmail hundreds of important people across the galaxy—that information in the hands of the Hutts could change the balance of power and topple the New Republic without so much as a shot being fired. “Aves, Dankin is getting NRI on the comm. I don’t care how you do it or who you have to threaten, but get every ship on this planet grounded.” Fortunately, Quantill City was one of only a few cities on the water-covered planet, and that meant she didn’t have nearly as much ground to cover. She reached into Karrde’s bedside table, pulling out the BlasTech DL-44 pistol he hid there, checking the power pack before jamming it into the back of her pants. Her own DL-22 was snug in its holster, her knife had already been returned to her boot, and anything else she needed could be improvised.   
  
“Be careful,” Aves called out to her.  
  
“Wait, where are you going?” Karrde said, his voice still gravely and slurred. His eyes were barely tracking her across the room.  
  
Shada glared at him over her shoulder. “I’m going to clean up your mess. And when I get back, we’re going to have a long talk and you are not going to like it.”  
  
*** 

The humidity hung heavy in the air as Shada grimly made her way through the seedier port of Anarsi, almost on the other side of Quantill City from the _Wild Karrde_. Aves had finally gotten the NRI head to lock down the planet, and Shada thanked the Force that Karrde’s enterprises were now more legal and more valuable to the New Republic. Of course, Karrde was probably going to have to explain some of this to a curious Airen Cracken later, but, she thought with a bit of perverse pleasure, he deserved the upcoming interrogation.  
  
Shada had never particularly liked Ando, and the Aqualish had always irritated her with their propensity for violence at the drop of a hat—she remembered one incident in particular that had been extraordinary at the time, and only more so after she began moving in the circles she did now. It had been the first time she’d seen a lightsaber in action, and it was only later that she realized the Aqualish had been picking on a young Luke Skywalker. But their ugly visages had one particular quality—it made it much easier to pick humans out of the crowd.  
  
The surveillance videos had shown a woman with a mass of blond hair moving through the crowds down here, and Shada hadn’t waited. The spaceport wasn’t that large—perhaps the size of Mos Eisley, and though there were examples of more species at this end of the city, finding Denara Lane was not going to be difficult.  
  
A few terse questions to a street vendor and a heavy application of credits had her a docking bay number with little difficulty, and Shada remembered that Karrde had once said that anyone would give up what they knew for the right price. Getting into the docking bay was easy. The entire section was owned by the Hutts, and their security had never been that hard to crack, since the Hutts generally relied upon fear to keep others out of their business. Hutt revenge was not something many people managed to survive.  
  
She hadn’t figured out how she was going to get into Lane’s ship yet, but found that she was in luck. Denara was standing outside her ship, arguing with the dockmaster, no doubt about the lockdown Shada had initiated. Her back was turned, and Shada drew her blaster silently, holding it forward. The dockmaster’s face expressed shock—as much as an Aqualish was able to express shock. “Get out,” Shada said quietly. The tone of her voice encouraged a speedy withdrawal on the part of the Aqualish, and Denara raised her hands up.   
  
“Turn around,” Shada said. Denara complied as the Aqualish beat a hasty retreat. “I want to know how you got our database off the ship and where it is now.”  
  
There was a calculating look in Denara’s eyes, as if the woman thought for some reason that Shada was going to let her out of this situation. “What’s it worth to you, Mistryl?”  
  
Shada didn’t let her needling get to her. “The question isn’t what it’s worth to me. It’s what it’s worth to you. Your life, perhaps?”  
  
“Right down to business,” Denara said, folding her arms across her chest. Shada only steadied her aim. “I can see why Karrde is in love with you.”  
  
Shada’s jaw clenched. “Don’t try that tactic with me.”  
  
The other woman let out a snort of unamused laughter. “And why do you think I jumped ship on Ando rather than back in the Corporate Sector? It was a risk, but Karrde was working himself up into such a state that I needed to get out of his sight quick.”  
  
“A state,” Shada said flatly.  
  
“Please, Shada. You don’t think he was imagining you when he was with me? You picked a hell of a time to jump into bed with your shipmates. Got him so worked up he said your name,” Denara said, and the gleam in her eye caused Shada pause, but she reminded herself that she wasn’t here for information about Karrde’s love life. She was here after the database Denara had stolen.  
  
“I’ll ask you again. Where’s the database?”   
  
Denara smirked, and Shada moved out of the way just in time as the woman uncrossed her arms, flinging a knife in her direction. Shada snapped off a shot, but Denara was no longer standing here, darting for a crate at the side of the landing bay. “Museum curator. Emperor’s black bones,” she muttered, moving around the struts of Denara’s ship. She lifted her blaster as she ducked out from under the ramp, firing into the ramp controls—without them working, Denara was effectively grounded even without the NRI lockdown. Even if something happened to Shada, the rest of Karrde’s crew would get the woman. The blaster bolt she’d fired gave away her position, and Shada hissed as a blast grazed her shoulder.   
  
She cursed herself as she jumped backwards, out of range, and caught a flash of blonde hair as Denara dashed for another position. Shada snapped off three or four shots, but didn’t hear anything that suggested she’d hit her mark.  
  
Then she saw the barrel of a blaster creep around a corner, and Shada allowed herself a predatory grin. Her blaster shot slagged Denara’s blaster into molten metal, and the yelp she heard meant Denara was feeling burned. “Your last chance, Lane!” Shada shouted. “Karrde might spare your life if you give up the database, but I will kill you.”  
  
Denara sounded out of breath as she answered—pain had to be getting to her. “And the Hutts will kill me anyway.”  
  
“Karrde can protect you,” Shada said icily. “Otherwise, you’re dead either way.”  
  
“I don’t think so.”  
  
The other woman came charging out of her corner, mayhem intent on her face, a knife in her uninjured hand ready to throw.  
  
Shada dropped to the floor, swept the zenji needles out of her hair and sent them flying before Denara could get a chance to throw her weapon. They struck the woman in the chest, and she stumbled backwards.  
  
Her chances for survival were still good, even with the needles buried in her torso, until Denara Lane made her fatal mistake and yanked the needles from her chest. Blood began to seep out of the wounds in her chest, and she fell to the ground.  
  
Shada picked herself up, holding her arm to her chest. She’d landed on it when she fell out of the way, but she had to finish what she’d come for. She walked up the ramp and into the ship. A survey of the cockpit revealed nothing, but she found Denara’s bag in the crew area. Opening it up, she dug through it to reveal an elegantly compact computer, the wires wrapped haphazardly around it. Tucking it under her arm, Shada breathed a sigh of relief. Their problem was solved.  
  
Part of it.  
  
***  
  
She cursed when the medical droid hadn’t been returned to the _Wild Karrde_ ’s sickbay. It mean that the 2-1B was still in Karrde’s quarters, monitoring the smuggler chief, and that her plan of dealing with him later wasn’t going to work. She gritted her teeth and headed for his quarters, brushing her hair out of her face.   
  
The door had been repaired—Aves, most likely, and she entered the code. It slid open, and she saw what seemed to be some kind of council of war assembled—Karrde, Aves, H’sishi, Chin, even Dankin and Torve. The 2-1B stood off to the side, out of the way.  
  
The blood soaking her arm caused Karrde to immediately stand. “You’re hurt.” He gestured at the 2-1B, and Aves detached himself from the wall to help her sit down.   
  
“Here,” Shada said, putting the computer down with a thunk. “It’s the database.” The 2-1B hovered over her, neatly detaching her sleeve from her shirt and peeling it off. She hissed in pain.   
  
“Does she need a bacta tank?” Karrde asked.  
  
“She most certainly does not,” Shada said, irritation showing in her voice. “A bacta patch will do just fine.”  
  
“Mistress D’ukal is correct,” the droid said in its calm voice, moving to get the kit it had brought with it, opening it up and removing a patch. It began gently cleaning her arm.  
  
Karrde’s eyes didn’t leave her face. “She shot you?”  
  
“Brilliant deduction, Karrde,” she said sarcastically.   
  
“Her?” he asked, and the single word was loaded with meaning. Dankin was shifting uncomfortably, and the rest of the crew looked nearly as uneasy.  
  
“Dead,” she said shortly, pulling her long hair over her shoulder. “New Republic authorities will ship her back to the Hutts. Found that in her travel bag,” she said, gesturing to the computer. “H’sishi, you should take a look at it. I’ve never seen anything like it.”  
  
The Togorian picked up the computer in her furry hands. [I will do so right away. Chieftain.] She inclined her head before exiting the room, Chin following her.  
  
“Now what?” Dankin asked. “I mean, Nilya—“  
  
“We’ll deal with Nilya,” Karrde said.   
  
Shada looked up at the other men in the room. “Gentlemen, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with Karrde, privately.”  
  
Dankin and Torve nodded and made their escape. Aves put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently before fixing Karrde with a dangerous look. “I’ll be on the bridge if you need me,” he said, the words directed more towards Shada than Karrde as he left.  
  
The door shut behind him, leaving the two of them alone, except for the medical droid finishing the bandaging of her arm. The bacta patch cooled the burn of her arm, and the droid dispensed a few painkillers before excusing itself from the room as well.  
  
The quiet seemed to echo in her ears. “You screwed up,” she said quietly.  
  
His jaw worked. “Despite popular opinion, I’m not infallible.”  
  
“Don’t— _don’t_ —get sarcastic with me right now,” she said, rising to her feet, looking down at him. “I don’t think you understand just how badly this could have ended. If she wanted, she could have _killed_ you, Karrde.” Her voice shook with emotion, anger and fear and something else she could barely put a name to mixing in her throat. “And I warned you about her. You have no right to ignore what I have to say that way.”  
  
“Shada—“ he said, standing. “Your duties do not start and stop with being my bodyguard. Not anymore.”  
  
“That’s because they never ended,” she bit off. “Yes, I’m your second command, Karrde, but your safety is more important than anything else.”  
  
“No,” he said, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. “The organization is more important than anything else, Shada. If something happens to me, then I trust you to take care of my people—“  
  
“And that’s where you really screwed up,” she said, her voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. “You didn’t just put yourself at risk, Karrde. You put the entire organization at risk. With our database, the Hutts could have dismantled the organization with hardly any effort at all. And they would have killed all of us, Karrde. The _Starry Ice_ would be floating out dead in space, the _Etherway_ would have had a mysterious accident with a thermal detonator. I’d have found myself being hunted down by my own sisters.” Shada took a breath, anger making her words come out faster. “If I’m going to be your second, then you have to start treating me like on. You can’t just ignore what I have to say because you don’t like it.”  
  
“I wasn’t—“  
  
“Shavit, you were!” she said. “You ignored me because you didn’t want to hear what I had to say to you, Karrde. Damn it, I have your best interests in mind.”  
  
“It had nothing to do with you being my second,” Karrde bit off. “I thought you had—“ He cut off what he was about to say before anger really did get the better of her and he found himself being treated by the 2-1B droid again.  
  
“You thought I what?” she said, and he knew he had to tread carefully now. “Spit it out, Karrde. We’re going to have this out, and it isn’t going to be pretty, so you might as well say it.”  
  
“I thought you were jealous,” he said bitterly. “Obviously, I was wrong.”  
  
She bit down the first thing that wanted to come out of her mouth. “If you think that I would allow my personal feelings to get in the way of my job, you are sadly mistaken, and you don’t know me nearly as well as you think you do.”  
  
“What do you want from me, Shada?” he demanded suddenly. “I made a mistake. A tactical error. I admitted it. What else do you want?”  
  
“Nothing you can apparently give.” The words exploded from her mouth before she thought.  
  
He stared at her for a moment, and his blue eyes met hers and seemed to bore into her soul. Karrde stepped towards her, one hand finding its way to her uninjured shoulder, wondering why this beautiful, brave woman had kept this secret to herself, because he was almost sure—almost.  
  
His other hand came under her chin, and he tilted her head up until his lips unerringly found hers. He pulled her towards him, losing himself in her, because he had waited too long for this—too long for this woman to respond to him. Too much time had gone by and he couldn’t wait any longer; too many other women had come through his life, and recently, he’d tried to lose himself someplace else, in someone else.  
  
The breathy gasp she gave thrilled something deep within him. His arm wrapped around her, until she was flush against him, his hand seeking out the skin under her tattered tunic.  
  
It was all too much for Shada; everything came rushing back to her with the warmth of his hand on her skin. The panic, the death, the anger, the despair—all of it rushed into her, and she remembered that Talon Karrde was quite possibly the most despicable human being in the galaxy.  
  
Her hand lashed out as she pulled back, hitting his face with a sound that echoed the violence of it in the room. He stared at her, almost in shock. Her hair had fanned out over her shoulders, her face was flushed with anger, and her lips were swollen from his kiss. She looked like an angel of vengeance as she spoke. “You son of a Sith.”  
  
Shada didn’t give him time to respond. “I will be your second-in-command,” she said angrily. “But I will _not_ be second in your bed.”  
  
Something inside him snapped. “But you’ve no problem being second in Aves’ bed?” Karrde bit out.  
  
He thought she was going to hit him again. “I’m going to forget you said that,” she said, and there was no mistaking the look on her face—it promised retribution in ways he did not want to imagine. Her face twisted as she considered her next words. “I’m going to Coruscant. I can’t be here with you right now, Karrde.”  
  
“Fine,” he said, feeling something tear in his chest. “When will you be back?”  
  
She flung her hair over her shoulder as she turned to leave. “I don’t know.”  
  
The door slid shut behind her, and he sat down on the hoversofa, barely able to breathe. She was leaving him, and suddenly all his sins seemed to pale in comparison. He’d done all of this wrong, and just as she’d left, he’d realized that he needed her like he needed air.  
  
She would not forget, he knew. All his sins would be remembered. And Talon Karrde wished for nothing more than absolution.


End file.
